by Noelle Adams
All her friends were married now—except for Riot who had broken up with Brian last month, in an unsurprising turn of events. But Anne and Robert weren’t even engaged. It was fine. She was still happy. They were moving in together, and the rest could happen as slowly as Robert needed. She never doubted his love and commitment.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, his voice came from the hall outside the bedroom. “You ready, Anne?”
“Yes. I’ve got everything packed up.”
Mary stepped aside to let Robert in. He was big and tanned and smiling as he stepped into the room, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. “Let’s do this then.”
“Let’s do it,” she replied.
She wasn’t feeling particularly sentimental. Not with a bunch of stuff to move into their new unit and Mary standing there with her victimized expression. So she got down to business, gathering up a pile of coats with one arm and rolling a suitcase with the other.
Robert took two boxes and followed her out of the room, through the condo, and into the hall.
The door to their new unit was open. Right now it was furnished with only a few pieces of furniture since neither one of them had a lot of stuff of their own. They could add to it over the next few months. This was their place now. They could make it their own.
Anne put her stuff down on the floor of the living room and turned to watch Robert carefully as he set down the boxes.
His leg still bothered him. It didn’t hurt all the time, but it was never going to be back to what it was before his injury. It would always limit his physicality and cause him pain when he overdid it.
She suspected that Robert had known this when he’d made his decision to leave the Navy. His military life was never going to be what it had been before, which was one of the reasons he was ready for something entirely new.
So far, he was working with his mother and brother at their antiques store, but she suspected he’d want to do something else eventually. He was taking it slow. Looking around.
She wanted him to be every bit as fulfilled in terms of career as she was, so she wasn’t rushing him.
They were doing just fine, exactly as they were.
Robert slanted her an ironic look, evidently noticing her observation. “My leg is fine.”
“Okay.”
“It is.”
“Okay.”
“It hurts a little but not enough to keep me from carrying a few boxes.”
“Okay.”
He made a face, and she couldn’t help but giggle and pull him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to brush a kiss against the side of her face. “I’ll rest it all day tomorrow to make up for today.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
They returned to her room and were able to move all her stuff in less than an hour. They’d already moved Robert’s possessions in earlier in the day. When they were done, Anne was happy and pleased with their progress, but she was also hot and sweaty, so she went to take a shower before dinner.
Robert was sitting at the kitchen island when she came out, drinking a bottle of water and putzing on his phone.
She smiled at him affectionately and was about to ask him what he wanted for dinner when she noticed something on the counter.
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Robert asked, looking up at with her with casual curiosity.
She nodded toward the little box on the marble countertop. It definitely hadn’t been there when she’d gone to take a shower.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Look and see.”
She frowned and moved slowly toward the box. Robert’s voice and expression were too casual. Intentionally so. Her heartbeat was starting to accelerate.
This couldn’t be... couldn’t be what she was thinking.
They’d only been dating for four months. It wasn’t too soon for her, but she’d never wanted to rush him. It had taken them so long to get back together.
She paused, her hand hovering over the box. She checked Robert’s face.
He was still attempting to look casual, but his lips had tightened and something strong flared out from his blue eyes. When she didn’t move, he said thickly, “Open it.”
She did. She lifted the lid of the box to reveal a ring. A diamond on a pretty gold band.
Her eyes blurred as she stared down at it. Her fingers trembled.
“I thought it would go with our new place,” Robert said after a few seconds. His voice wasn’t nearly as light and unconcerned as he was trying to make it.
She could barely move. Barely think. A rush of joy had exploded in her heart and was filling her chest, her belly.
“But only if... if you want it to,” Robert added.
She heard the hitch in his voice and understood it as nervousness. She grabbed for the ring and then whirled around to beam up at him. “Of course I want it to!”
His face relaxed visibly into a soft, warm smile. “So you’ll marry me, Anne?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ve always wanted to, and I can’t believe it’s finally the right time.”
He took the ring from her hand and slipped it gently on her finger. They stared down at it happily, and then he pulled her into his arms with a groan. “We waited a long time for this, but it’s finally the right time for us.”
“And it will be, for the rest of our lives. No matter what.”
He pressed a soft kiss on her lips. “No matter what.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: If you haven’t yet read them, the first Pemberley House book is In Want of a Wife (about Liz and Vince and inspired by Pride and Prejudice) and the second book is If I Loved You Less (about Em and Ward and inspired by Emma).
My next release will be Carpool. It’s the first book in a new series called Milford College. You can find an excerpt on the following pages.
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If you want a complete list of my books, including series and tropes, you can go to my Printable Book List.
Excerpt from Carpool
IT TAKES ME ABOUT TEN minutes to work up my courage and turn over in my mind again and again every single possibility that might come from asking Marcus a favor like this.
Finally Beck’s urging and the knot in my gut about putting so much money on my credit card force me to my feet.
Marcus is still on a stool at the counter. He’s finished his meal, but he’s chatting with Cheryl, who has been a waitress here since I was born.
I’m in a weird, nervous daze as I walk over—that feeling of watching yourself do something you can’t quite conceive of actually doing. When I reach him, I have no idea how to get his attention, so I plop myself down on the stool next to him.
He turns to look at me with arched eyebrows.
I’ve got light brown hair with a few glints of auburn, brown eyes, regular features, and a medium-sized frame. I’m not any sort of beauty queen, but I’m basically attractive. A lot of guys look at me as though they appreciate what they see.
Marcus doesn’t. He never has. He always peers at me with a cool, superior expression that has driven me crazy all my life. He dates women of a variety of looks and sizes, so I can’t imagine he has a problem with my appearance. He’s just never thought about me that way.
That fact bothers me as much as everything else about him.
Some guys think I’m pretty. Why doesn’t he?
He’s staring at me now, waiting for me to say something. And I have no idea what to say. I can’t even remember why I came over here.
His eyebrows lift even higher, and I finally get a word out. “Hi.”
His mouth gives that familiar twitch. “Hi? You’re telling me hi?”
My nerves are quickly being swallowed up by annoyance. “Maybe you’re unfamiliar with the concept, but po
lite people say hi.”
“You don’t say hi to me.” The blue gray of his eyes is lighter than you’d expect the color to be, so it stands out starkly in his handsome face.
“Well, I am now. And someone with manners might say hi back.”
He leans closer, and my breath hitches when a surge of attraction rushes over me from my ears to my toes. Damn, the man is way too hot. It isn’t entirely fair.
“Hi,” he says with a drawl in his voice.
I roll my eyes. “Nice.”
“I do my best.”
I swallow hard. I can see he’s waiting for me to say something. To explain my purpose in coming over here. Cheryl has been lingering, eavesdropping with an amused expression, but the couple in the corner booth call her over, so she has to walk away.
Just as well.
I’d rather not have an audience for this humiliating conservation. “I need a favor.” I had to force it out.
“From me?”
“Yes. From you. You’re the only one who can help me.”
“Interesting.” He tilts his head to one side, studying my face with a familiar amused arrogance.
I try not to roll my eyes again, but I don’t entirely succeed. I should have known he wouldn’t make this easy on me. My voice is almost prim as I say, “Do you have any interest in carpooling to work for a few weeks?”
I evidently surprise him because his eyebrows lower and his habitual smirk fades. “Carpooling?”
“Well, it wouldn’t exactly be carpooling. It would be you giving me a ride.”
“What’s wrong with your car?”
“The transmission died. Johnny Castle said he’d try to rebuild it, but he’ll have to do it in his spare time, and it will take a few weeks.”
His broad forehead has wrinkled into three vertical lines between his brows. For some reason the expression makes me feel better, like he’s thinking about what I’m saying, like he’s taking me seriously. “You could take it to the garage in Clifton. They always do good work, and they won’t cheat you.”
“I know. I got an estimate from them.”
“And?”
I bite my bottom lip and admit, “I can’t afford it.”
He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask something but closes it again. It’s several seconds before he says in a softer tone, “I guess that nursing home for your grandma costs a shitload of money.”
It’s a relief not to have to explain everything to him. He seems to understand. Both his tone and his expression are gentler than I’ve ever seen them.
“It does. I could put the repair on a credit card, but I hate to do that—especially if I have another option. Since you’re driving back and forth to Milford at around the same time I do, I thought I’d ask.”
He keeps looking at me. Doesn’t say anything immediately.
I have no idea what he’s thinking, and it’s unnerving. I chew on my lip until I can’t help but add, “I’ll be happy to chip in for gas and wear and tear on your car. I know we’re not friends or anything. I wouldn’t be asking if I weren’t desperate.”
His mouth twitches up again for the first time since I asked for the favor. “You think I don’t know that? You remember when you were a kid and your grandma fell and hurt herself but wouldn’t let you call 911?”
I narrow my eyes since his voice is teasing again. I should have known his less obnoxious persona couldn’t last for long. “Yes, I remember that.”
He gives a soft huff of amusement. “You came knocking on our door. You should have seen your face when it was me who answered. I’m sure you were hoping for my mom or brothers, but you got stuck with me. You looked like you’d rather talk to a serial killer. And I remember exactly what you said.” He clears his throat and pitches his voice to mimic mine—exaggerating the primness. “I’m sorry to bother you, but my grandmother has fallen, and I can’t get her up. Is there anyone available to come over and help me?”
“I was trying to be polite.”
“You were trying not to show how disgusted you were that it was me you were asking for help.”
I hadn’t been disgusted when it was Marcus who’d opened the door that day when I was thirteen years old. I’d been so nervous I’d hardly been able to speak.
Just as well he hadn’t realized that. I’ve always been good at hiding any sort of vulnerability from the world.
“That was years ago. This is an entirely different situation.” I’m pleased that I sound cool and calm.
“Is it? You still look like you’d rather ask for a favor from a vampire.”
“A vampire wouldn’t be able to help me with this. The help I need is during daylight hours.”
He snorts. “And there’s really no one else you can hitch a ride from?”
“Not anyone who lives this far out from Milford and who makes the drive the same times I do.”
He licks his lips slowly. It’s almost certainly an idle gesture as he thinks. But the sliding of his tongue over the thin curve of his lips gives me a hot rush of dirty thoughts.
I can’t help but wonder what that tongue would feel like sliding against my mouth, my body.
I really don’t need to feel like that.
“It’s fine if you’d rather not,” I add, feeling uncomfortable for any number of reasons. “I know we’re not friends or anything. I’m just desperate.”
“Yeah. That much is clear. Only desperation would lead you to ask me for anything.”
I roll my eyes, unable to stop myself. “If all you want to do is mock me...”
“I would have thought you’d know that was part of the package. You get a ride from me, and I get to mock you to my heart’s content.”
“Fine,” I grit out. “If you’re willing to give me a ride for a few weeks, you can mock me to your heart’s content. But don’t expect me to just sit there and take it.”
“I’d never dream of you just taking it. Where would be the fun in that?”
I stare at him, trying to figure out what he means by that last drawled question.
Then he drops a twenty on the counter and stands up. “I’ll see you Monday morning. I leave at seven. Don’t be late.”
I’ve barely processed what he says before he’s reached the door of the diner.
“Thank you!” I call out to his back. He might be obnoxious, but he is doing me a big favor, and thanking him is only polite.
He gives me a wave without turning around, and his tall, lean body disappears outside, leaving only the jangling of the bell on the door and the memory of his amused smirk.
I turn to look at Beck, who’s grinning at me from our booth. She claps her hands with an uninhibited vibrancy that characterizes her.
I’m not as thrilled as she is by this development, but I am relieved.
And maybe a little excited.
After all, my commute for the next few weeks is going to be anything but boring.
YOU CAN FIND OUT MORE about Carpool here.
About Noelle Adams
NOELLE HANDWROTE HER first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she writes full time, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances. For more information, please check out her website: noelle-adams.com.
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